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ja3yun · 3 months

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Guilty as Sin | P.SH

ceo!sunghoon x assistant!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, desk sex, doggy, dom!hoon, choking, petnames (slut, good girl), slight dub con (hoon doesn't know what she's doing on the phone), age gap (reader is 22 and hoon is 27), not proof read, its not great tbh, anything else lmk! w.c: 3.8k synopsis: with your roommate gone for the evening, it is the perfect opportunity to let loose and think about a certain ceo while you fulfil your deepest desires. a/n: hi! this is ofc based on guilty as sin by taylor swift. just a heads up, the italics are her fantasy and straight text is what is happening in the real world. i tried to make it as clear as possible but sorry if its confusing near the end! this is just a little someting I wrote quickly (who would have guessed I could write a wc under 10k lmao). i hope you like it and as always feedback, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated.

part 2

Placing her trusted Charlotte Tilbury lipstick in her bag, your best friend and roommate of three years, Jimin, is finally ready to go out for the night. She looks glamorous from head to toe, effortlessly exuding the confidence and allure of a world-class supermodel.

Her hair cascades in loose waves, artfully swept over one shoulder, highlighting her elegant neck and perfectly styled tresses. Her tanned skin glows under the soft lighting, accentuating the contrast with her white spaghetti strap crop top, which subtly showcases her toned midriff. Her black suede shorts hug her figure, adding a touch of sophistication and edge to her ensemble. Strappy heels elongate her legs, making her look even more statuesque.

As Jimin adjusts her earrings, you can't help but admire her impeccable sense of style and grace. Her makeup is flawlessly applied, with a hint of shimmer on her eyelids and a bold, dark red lip that makes her look like she’s stepped straight out of a DAZED magazine.

In stark contrast, you are nestled comfortably on the couch in your cherry pink pyjamas, lost in the pages of "King of Pride." The soft fabric of your pyjamas provides a comforting embrace, and your hair is casually pulled back in a loose ponytail. Your face is free of makeup, showcasing your natural beauty and the relaxed ease of someone enjoying a quiet evening, just you, a glass of wine, and the much-needed company of Kai Young.

“Okay, how do I look?” Jimin turns to you, plastering on a big smile, extending her arms so you can get a full glimpse of her carefully orchestrated outfit.

Holding your place in your book with your thumb, you pretend to inspect her harshly, knowing anything less would be deemed as not caring - at least in the eyes of your best friend. “I think…you look like the prettiest girl in the room, no, the world” you compliment her earnestly.

Tutting, she rolls her eyes. “You and Jaeyun say the same thing every time,” she giggles, enjoying the compliment despite it being a secret mantra you and her boyfriend have conjured up to keep her happy. Jimin has a certain way she likes to be spoken to and if it isn’t the most dramatic, complimentary words you can muster, you might as well call her an ugly hag who cracks mirrors.

Jaeyun and you have always rated her an unequivocal one hundred out of ten.

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to come?” Jimin asks for the fifth time in three hours. “Heeseung will be there, you know he has a bit of a crush on you.” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully, clearly enjoying how your face flushes at mentioning his name. Heeseung is handsome, no doubt about it, but he isn’t the man you would rush out the door for.

“I promise, I am quite happy here with my rich soon-to-be CEO and a glass of Pino,” you wave her off and open your book again, digging back into the chapter she pulled you from.To be honest, it’s not entirely a fib; you do want to stay in and enjoy a glass of wine, though your plans are slightly more elaborate than they seem—details she doesn’t need to know about.

“Well, don’t wait up. I’m planning to stay at Jaeyun’s afterwards,” she announces with a gleeful smile. Her infectious joy and the glimmer in her eyes catch the warm light from the lamp beside you, casting a gentle glow over the room.

As she gives a final twirl and heads out the door, leaving the apartment with a high-pitched goodbye, you wait to hear the faint turn of her key in the lock. Once you detect that reassuring click, signalling her definitive departure, you wedge your bookmark in the novel and place it on the side table, promising yourself that you will return to it later; you have another CEO to attend to.

Grasping your glass of crisp wine and your phone, you make your way to your bedroom. The room is softly lit, with fairy lights casting a warm, ambient glow. You place your wine on the nightstand, sitting softly on your bed as you unlock your phone.

A sigh leaves your wine-tainted lips as you open up Instagram, going straight to a certain someone’s page. The same person that has left you so needy all day that you have been counting down the minutes and seconds until you get some alone time.

Park Sunghoon.

Your boss, Park Sunghoon, who gave you a job as his assistant straight out of Grad school after attending one of his special lectures, the one who has shown you the ropes of the Marketing world and introduced you to important contacts to help you in the future, and the one who makes it insanely difficult to concentrate in any board or business meeting because of how insanely attractive he is.

Sunghoon is a gift from the gods: tall, wealthy, extraordinarily handsome, and incredibly hard to resist. He is admirable and focused, commanding a room in a way you wish he would with you, hoping that the passion and energy he has for the business could somehow translate into a more intimate setting, with you on the receiving end. He has worked tirelessly to build his company from rags to riches, becoming the youngest, highest-grossing CEO in the country, making every Forbes 30 Under 30 list there is. You are immensely grateful for the opportunity to work as his assistant.

That is why what you are about to do feels like a betrayal. Your heart tells you this is wrong, embarking on sinful acts such as this, but it also convinces you that thoughts inside your mind aren’t anything to feel ashamed about, as long as you look and never touch.

And so far, you haven’t ever laid a finger on him, much to your disdain. There have been times when all you can think about is pouncing on him while he sits at his desk, imagining bouncing on his cock until you’re high off his cum and kisses. You envision his white shirts and black ties discarded, your lips all over his toned chest and stomach, hearing him moan your name as you make your way to suck his cock better than any of his socialite flings ever could.

If the assistant and CEO dynamic wasn’t enough to deter you from making your fantasies a reality, the class barrier would be your first hurdle. Sunghoon comes from a world of privilege and status, a realm of luxury and power. Despite your impressive academic achievements and the progress you’ve made in your career, there’s always an underlying awareness of the different worlds you inhabit. You’re 22 and an assistant just starting to work your way up and Sunghoon is a 27-year-old CEO of a multi-million dollar franchise.

You are nowhere near his level.

Yet, the allure of his presence is irresistible. His charisma and the subtle way he looks at you during meetings ignite a forbidden desire within you. The professionalism you maintain in the office is a fragile veneer, concealing the simmering tension and your hidden longing. Each day, you master the art of restraint, keeping your fantasies locked away, only to revisit them in the privacy of your room, where the boundaries of reality and imagination blur.

Scrolling through his Instagram, you hone in on one particular picture, your favourite among them all: his GQ CEO of the Year cover. Maybe it was because you were there when it was taken, seeing him switch poses, flicking his eyebrows up and smirking into the camera, his fingers gripping the edges of his desk as the photographer shouted praises intertwined with instructions. God, how you would do anything to be bent over that table and fucked to oblivion by the man.

You reach into your bedside drawer and retrieve the pretty pink dildo you ordered from Adam & Eve, the size mimicking what you imagine Sunghoon’s looks like: slim but not skinny, long and arched, with a large bell at the end. It’s so wrong to imagine what your boss’ dick looks like, never mind buying a toy specifically to fantasise about him, but you can’t bring yourself to feel guilty about it—not when you’re cumming around it and screaming his name.

Position yourself comfortably, the soft sheets bunch up around you and close your eyes. The fantasy takes over, vivid and tantalising. You picture Sunghoon, his intense gaze locked on you, his hands rough yet tender as they roam your body. The thought of his voice, low and commanding, fills your mind, heightening your arousal.

And you get lost in the fantasy as you look at the picture illuminating your screen.

Pushing down your pyjama shorts, you discard them quickly, your cunt already greedy to be filled. You rub the dildo up and down your slick folds, gathering your natural lubricant as you look at Sunghoon’s stern face on your phone screen, remembering all the times he has reprimanded you for doing something wrong. You never fully took in the severity of the situation, your mind too lost in the lower octave of his tone and how badly you wished to be punished by him.

“Bend over. Now,” he says with venom lacing his tone, the words cutting through his quiet office.

You do as he says, leaning over the desk and hiking up your skirt, eagerly anticipating your retribution. The air is thick with tension as Sunghoon’s body looms close to you, teasing you even with just his presence. Your mind races as his hands situate themselves on your hips, pulling your ass back into him, the action causing your cunt to meet his bulge. The outline of his length protrudes through his Prada slacks, making your pussy ache all over him.

Leaning his body over yours so his chest is pressed firmly against your back, he ghosts his lips over your earlobe. “How many times do I need to tell you to do your job right?” His question is rhetorical, knowing that if you speak, you’ll get an even worse punishment.

His warm breath on your ear sends shivers down your spine, and you feel your core tighten in anticipation. His grip on your hips tightens as he slowly grinds against you, the friction of his bulge against your soaked panties making you whimper. The feeling of his hard cock pressing into you, even through the fabric is intoxicating, and you can’t help but arch your back, pushing yourself closer to him.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and taunting. “So desperate for it. Such a needy little slut.”

Before you can respond, he straightens up, his hands leaving your hips, his warm grip now replaced with the cold lingering of want. Without warning, he brings his hand down on your ass with a sharp smack. The sensation is electric, a mix of pain and pleasure that makes you gasp, the sting of the spank sends a jolt of arousal straight to your core, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

“Did you like that?” he asks, his tone mocking. He doesn’t wait for an answer as his hand comes down again, harder this time, the sound of the impact echoing in the large office. The force makes you tremble, your skin tingling with the aftershock, your cunt leaking down your leg in sheer joy and agony.

“Yes, sir,” you manage to gasp, the words escaping your lips before you can stop them.

“Good girl,” he purrs, and you feel his hand rub soothing circles over the spot he just spanked, the contrast of his gentle touch against the sting making your body crave more. He is giving you the perfect mixture of punishment and rest, somehow making you crave a spanking more than ever before despite your ass whispering pleas of ‘no more’

Another sharp smack lands on your other cheek, and you can’t hold back the moan that escapes your throat. The pain mingles with pleasure, your pussy throbbing with need. Each hit is harder than the last, and you can feel the heat rising in your skin, the stinging sensation turning into a delicious ache.

“Do you want more?” he asks, his voice dripping with seduction. “Do you want me to punish you properly?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply breathlessly, your body trembling with anticipation. These two words seem to be the only thing that can fall from your lips other than strangled moans and mewls of desire.

He spanks you again, the force making you lurch forward, your hands gripping the edge of the desk for support, the hit vibrating all the way to your throbbing bud. The sharp sting reverberates through your body, intensifying the ache between your legs. You feel yourself getting wetter, your juices dripping down your thighs, hitting the Versace shoes that Sunghoon bought you for a work event.

“Look at you,” he taunts, his voice low and commanding. “So needy, so desperate. You can’t even control yourself, can you?”

“No, sir,” you admit, your voice a whimper. “I need you.”

His hand comes down on your ass again, harder than before, and you cry out, the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming your senses. You can feel the slickness between your thighs increasing, naturally preparing yourself for what is to come.

“You’re such a good girl,” he murmurs, his hand rubbing soothingly over your reddened skin. “Taking your punishment so well.”

He leans over you again, his lips brushing against your ear. “But we’re not done yet,” he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I’m going to make sure you never forget this.”

With that, he draws back and gives another harsh slap, the impact of which causes you to squeal. The cadence of his spanking quickens, each slap sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your skin tingles with each hit, leading to a climax.

“Please, sir,” you beg, your voice trembling. “Please, I need to cum.”

He pauses, his hand resting on your ass. “You need to cum?” he repeats, his tone amused. “Just by my hand?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, your body trembling with need. “Please, I’ve been a good girl, let me cum.”

He chuckles softly, his hand sliding between your thighs to feel your wetness. “You’re soaked,” he remarks, his fingers teasing your folds. “Such a needy little slut.”

His words send a jolt of arousal through you, and you whimper as he teases your entrance with his fingers. “Don’t you want my cock?” he asks, his voice low and seductive. “Don’t you want me to fuck you?” His words are condescending, knowing that with a few more slaps you’ll be clenching around nothing, yet, he can’t stand to see you cum and it not be around his delicious cock.

“Yes, sir,” you moan, your body aching for his touch, for his dick to be stuffed deep inside you. To be honest, you want anything he will give you. “Please, fuck me.”

Unbuckling his belt and letting his black trousers and boxers fall to his ankles, he positions himself behind you, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, and you push back against him, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Patience,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips. “I want to take my time with you.”

Finally wet enough to snuggly enter you, the dildo sinks into your cunt as you imagine him sinking in slowly, the wave of pleasure as you stretch around the faux shaft enough to send your head back into a frenzy.

He pushes in slowly, the stretch of his cock filling you inch by inch. The sensation is overwhelming, the tip of his cock sliding past all of your sensitive spots, stimulating your nerves just the way you need him to. You feel every inch of him, the fullness making your body shiver with desire.

“God, you’re tight,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips harder. “You feel so fucking good.”

He begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. The friction of his cock against your inner walls is intoxicating, and you can’t help but moan his name, the sound mingling with the rhythm of his movements.

“Sunghoon,” you gasp, your back contorting to fit him deeper, head thrown back as he bucks his hips at a steady, agonising pace. “Please, fuck me harder.”

Scoffing, he slows down, giving you the opposite of what you are needily begging for. “You think you deserve to make demands?” Sunghoon asks, his hands roaming along your back, fingers untucking your shirt and crawling up to your bare back. You’re lucky he let the slip of his name out of your mouth rather than his preferred nickname.

In truth, you don’t, constantly fucking up in your job to the point that it has come to this, but by god will you never get a single thing right if it means receiving this pleasure. Yet, right now, you need to yield, appeasing his every word.

“I don’t deserve it, Sir,” you admit, trying to fuck onto his cock faster. “But please, I’ll be so good if you do.”

Laughing, his large hand snakes around your neck and pulls you back roughly, bringing your head to rest on his shoulder as he fucks into you agonisingly slow yet sharp. His warm breath washes over your cheek as he smirks menacingly. “You’re already being a good girl, so what else will you do?”

“I’ll do my job properly, I’ll make sure I never disappoint you.” It’s not even the slightest bit embarrassing as you try your hardest to fuck yourself onto his cock, squeezing for extra friction as you bargain with him. All you need right now is to be pounded mercilessly by the man you crave the most.

Satisfied with your response, he finally obliges, his thrusts becoming faster and more intense, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. The pleasure builds with each movement, your body responding eagerly to his touch. You feel the tension coiling in your core, the edge of climax drawing closer with every thrust.

“Do you want to cum on your boss’ cock?” he asks mockingly, knowing your immediate answer.

You struggle to give him an answer as his grip on your throat tightens, his digits pressing into your soft neck and cutting off your voicebox, yet somehow, you manage to squeak out a tiny ‘yes’, followed by a throat-ripping moan as he finds your sweet spot.

Suddenly, your phone rings as you move your dildo rapidly in and out of your squelching cunt, the toy now covered in your juices as both you and it work hard to reach that sweet release. Heaving heavily, you see the caller ID ring and your eyes widen, the name ‘Park Sunghoon’ flashing across your screen.

Idiotically, you answer, scared of the reprimand if you don’t, your boss never liking when you answer after more than three rings. Before you get the chance to speak, he is already blaring down the phone at you.

“Y/N, I need you to come in early tomorrow. There is a big meeting with Park Jongseong that we must prepare for,” he begins, tone borderline scolding but not so angry. “Someone forgot to put it in my diary.”

The subtle dig at you only heightens your feelings, the actual scolding you’re receiving meshing in beautifully with your fantasies. Your hand never stops the dildo from thrusting harshly into you, his actual voice much colder and deeper than the one you have in your mind, your body aching for each Sunghoon in its own way.

You stifle a moan but it still leaks through into the speaker, your climax imminent as your wrist quickens and legs spread, the muscles of your thighs and arms tightening with your actions.

“Cum for me, baby” he commands, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel you cum around my cock.”

“Are you sick? Don’t come in tomorrow if you are, I have to fly to Japan on Thursday.”

Each CEO blends into one another as you come undone, dropping the phone on your stomach and arching your back off the bed.

The words push you over the edge, and you cry out as the orgasm crashes over you, “Yes, Sir!” your body trembling with the force of it. You can feel your pussy clenching around his cock, the sensation driving him deeper into you. His thrusts become erratic, and with a final, deep thrust, he spills into you, filling you with his release. The hot spurts of his cum coat your battered walls so deliciously, soothing the rawness from the relentless beating.

The room is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the aftermath of your climax leaving you both spent and satisfied. Sunghoon pulls out slowly, his hands gentle as they caress your skin. He helps you stand, his touch tender as he pulls you into his arms.

“You did so well,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Such a good girl.”

You pant heavily, forgetting for a moment exactly where you are and what you have done, the blurred line of delusion and reality becoming a haze as your eyes fight their way open, your high overcoming your body like a tidal wave

Clearing his throat with a deliberate rasp, Sunghoon's piercing gaze cuts through the haze clouding your senses, snapping you back to the stark reality of your surroundings. The weight of your actions descends upon you like a sudden storm, leaving you breathless and disoriented.

"Tomorrow at 6am, my office," he declares with a steely edge, each word measured and exact as he speaks with a smirk. The earlier rush of pleasure now dissipates into a cold knot of apprehension in your stomach. His voice carries a promise of consequences, leaving no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what you’ve been doing.

"Do not keep me waiting," he continues, his tone low and ominous, "or you'll be punished.”

He hangs up abruptly, the chilling bleep of the disconnected call makes you swallow, realising that you have completely fucked up and have painted yourself guilty as sin.

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#enhypen smut #enha smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #aj writes #enha x reader #enhypen x reader

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solardrop · 3 months

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silver.

aaron hotchner x reader.

summary: hotch really doesn't think getting old is sexy. tags: fluff. a suggestive line here or there but nothing crazy. age gap (reader in their 30s, hotch is 57). jack mentioned. i think this could be read as gn!reader but i could be wrong. just short and cute. word count: 1.0k a/n: last fics rules still apply. be nice to me! when i look up photos of hair dying on pinterest i get rainbow haired e-boys so accept this haircut photo <3 divider creds to @/cafekitsune

Your name echoes across the house when Aaron yells for you from the bathroom. Once you enter the space you're greeted by his hair spiked in every which way, covered in a brownish-black goop. His thick hands are gloved and hold a small black toothbrush-like applicator.

"Sweetheart, can you check if I missed a spot?" Aaron hands you the brush and tray of inky black dye. You make a show of rolling your eyes and pouting back at him in the mirror and you take the items from him.

"I forgot it was that time of month that you decided to cover up all your sexy.." you sigh.

"Really," he scoffs, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, "I thought all the sexy was gone when I shaved.'

You almost teared up remembering the loss of his beard. A case off the grid forced him to grow one out for a few weeks. You understandably jumped his bones upon seeing the new look when he returned. The extra hair provided some out-of-this-world sensations for your softest parts that you would never forget. Only for the wicked man to shave all of it after two days, citing the "professional dress code" of the FBI as the culprit.

You snap a latex glove onto your hand, "Shush and bend over, big guy."

He smiles and kneels to face you, his rough hands gripping the fat of your thighs. You slowly worked around his head, dabbing bits of dye in bare spots. Your fingers rake through the inky black mass on his head, gently massaging his scalp. Aaron hums and thanks you under his breath.

"Do you know why I started dying my hair so consistently?"

"To torture me?"

"No," he huffs," when Jack was about... eight? I had taken him on this trip with a couple of his friends and their fathers, it was fun, but at the end of the whole thing Jack pointed at the grays starting to grow out on my hairline and turned to his friends and said-"

"Baby no...."

"'Guys look! My daddy is sooo old!'"

You clamp your lips shut to hold in your laughter. You didn't want to embarrass him further, especially with the deep red flush rising up the nape of his neck.

"Oh honey Jack was still a baby then... kids are insane you know that"

" I do, and I know. I laughed it off. I know he didn't really mean anything by it, but I didn't know if he felt like the odd one out for having an old dad.." Aaron runs his hands up and down your legs mindlessly. "And now I don't want you to feel out of place either."

You pause at that. In the few years you and Hotch have been together, never has he shown any insecurity about the difference in age between you. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start now if you had anything to do with it. You slicked his hair back with your hands and placed the clear complimentary shower cap in the box on his head, snickering at how silly he looked. Once you slide the slimy gloves off you set the timer on your phone and grasp the face of the man you loved so dearly, forcing him to rest his chin on your stomach and look into your eyes.

"You have less than thirty minutes to explain to me why you think I'd care about you looking old"

"you're young-"

"I'm in my thirties-"

"you're younger," he corrects "than me by quite a bit. All your friends have other young people to share their life and first experiences with. Meanwhile, you're stuck with a sixty-year-old-"

"You're fifty-seven-" Your eyes roll.

"a fifty-seven-year-old with a sassy kid turned angsty teenager for a child." he sighs, "Sweetheart I just don't want you to ever look at me and feel a loss."

You take a moment to scan his face. Despite the stupid shower cap mushrooming around his head, his face showed no amusement when he spoke. The sweet, shy smile he always sported around you was gone, replaced with a grimace and furrowed brow.

"Aaron I have never felt more loved, accepted, and safe than I have with you. I know you know that," you say.

He nods, pressing a quick peck to your belly button before looking at you. His eyes search yours for a moment of hesitation or change in resolve. but you stand your ground.

"The only thing I worry about with you on my arm is fighting off all the homewreckers."

He wheezes a laugh at this. Eventually having to stand up before he smears the dark dye all over you. He always does this. Laughs and acts like he wouldn't have crowds of people stop to fawn over his beauty if he let them.

"Remember that neighbor at the old apartment who would only stop by with cookies when she knew you were home?"

"Or the time Jack's classmate profiled their teacher's crush on you?"

"Don't even get me started on that detective JJ keeps telling me about from years ago in New Mexico. The male detective."

He smiles at you sheepishly, "You've made your point."

"If you want to dye your hair or shave to make yourself happy I think you should," you whisper, "but Aar I love every version of you possible"

You press your lips to his cheek before you continue, "You are the most beautiful, devastatingly sexy old man out. And I will still throw myself at you in public if you decide to finally ditch the box dye."

He smiles at you fully now, eyes shining as he looks down at you. He slides his lips against yours, grinning into the kiss before he pulls away to thank you.

"Maybe after this starts to grow out I'll see how I feel about the silver again." He looks back at his reflection in the mirror. He turns his head every which way to peek at the processing strands under the shower cap.

"Think about the beard too damn it.." you mumble. You begin to wander out of the bathroom when he yells for you again.

"Oh and sweetheart one more thing," you turn to look at him, confused when he stifles a laugh, "will you still think I'm sexy if I start balding like my father?"

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch #aaron hotch x reader #mine

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dearobinchwan · 6 months

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ?

featuring : gn!reader + Zoro, Mihawk and Ace

warning : none

masterlist

Roronoa Zoro

His heart suddenly beats more rapidly whenever he sees you smiling, laughing, or even doing the most random thing. On top of that, Sanji's overly complimentary remarks towards you make him want to reach for his swords. No, this can't be. He's stared death down a thousand times, cut through countless enemies. Yet, this new feeling blooming for you – it's terrifying.

Zoro coming to terms with his feelings for you? Buckle up, because it's going to be a hilarious journey. Denial will be his middle name for a while, trust me. This dense swordsman will be in for a wild ride before he finally connects the dots.

Thanks to Nami's interrogation skills (and a little sake), the whole crew knows Zoro has a thing for you. Now, expect endless teasing from Luffy and Usopp, who'll probably try to spill the beans before a certain mosshead gives them his best glare.

Zoro finally figuring out his feelings for you? Great! Now comes the real test: talking to you about them. Because let's be honest, under that tough-guy act, he is probably a nervous wreck, sweating bullets at the thought of rejection.

Zoro's not exactly the Romeo type. So expect a confession that's straightforward, maybe a bit awkward – but heartfelt nonetheless. If you feel the same, a weight will lift from his shoulders. But if not, he'll respect your decision and try to keep things smooth between you.

Dracule Mihawk

Don't be fooled by Mihawk's stoic facade – because he is quite aware of his feelings for you. Years have honed his instincts, and unlike his pupil, he has no time (and he is too old) for childish denial. His emotions are clear, even if unspoken.

That man has a very calculating mind. He'll dissect every interaction, every glance, searching for a sign that you love him as mush as he loves you. Despite his solitary nature, his mind might already be constructing a future by your side – a future dependent on your response.

Mihawk is probably one of the few men in One Piece who are very romantic (Oda told me so). His brand of romance is subtle yet charming. Imagine leisurely strolls through his gardens or watching the sunset with a glass of wine by his side. A subtle offer of his arm, a hint of a blush from you – that might be all the encouragement he needs to take things a step further.

Once confident your feelings mirror his own, Mihawk will approach things in an (VERY) old-fashioned way. Be prepared for a carefully crafted dinner invitation, where he can formally request the honor of courting you. His pride lies in being a gentleman, and rushing into things is simply not his style. He prefers to court you slowly and respectfully, allowing your relationship to develop naturally.

After a series of thoughtful dates, Mihawk will finally take the next step and ask you to be his partner (Perona and Zoro might have placed a bet on the timeline, of course). Like everything he does, Mihawk will approach this new chapter with utmost seriousness. Your well-being will always be his top priority.

Portgas D. Ace

Ace isn't the denial type. The ache when you're gone, the quiet competition with Marco and Izo for your laughter – these are the clues that tip him off. Ace falling for you? It's written all over his flustered face. He stutters and turns red like a tomato when speaking to you unexpectedly.

The entire crew is a nuisance and teases him constantly about his love for you. They have grilled him mercilessly – “When will you confess?” they ask, convinced you feel the same.

Denial ? Once again, not Ace's style. But baring his heart, admitting his love for you ? That's a terrifying vulnerability he fears more than anything. On top of that, I believe he is also afraid of losing your friendship by making things awkward if you don't feel the same about him.

Thankfully, Marco, ever the voice of reason, is there to guide this lovestruck dummy. And honestly, this old man is tired of watching you two pining from afar. A stern talk from Marco might be just what Ace needs to understand that silence could lead to a missed opportunity for a great relationship.

Ace's confession? A masterpiece in the making, at least in his head. Daily mirror pep talks and a meticulously planned romantic gesture – that's how he plans to declare his love. Just imagine the blushing, the stammering, the potential for minor explosions (caused by Ace's nervousness, of course).

Dinner over, Ace reaches for something hidden in his pocket. His nervousness is palpable, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow. But then, with a determined glint in his eye, he throws caution (and the letter) to the wind, ready to confess his true feelings directly from the heart.

#divider by cafekitsune #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #zoro roronoa x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #portgas d ace x reader #zoro x reader #mihawk x reader #ace x reader #zoro roronoa x you #portgas d ace x you #dracule mihawk x you #zoro x y/n #mihawk x y/n #ace x y/n

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cum-allergy · 2 years

Text

morning newspaper

#anyway since you read the tags alex and it may seem others its now funny to me #and i will blast random thoughts into the ether #i feel like the theme here is the WHEN WILL YOU LEARN. YOUR ACTIONS HAVE /CONSEQUENCES/ vine #although i do immediately miss having someone to harrass (complimentary) at a moment's notice #not that i don't harass my other partner far from it actually #but the specific dynamic we did have was immaculate and it's unfortunate that the choice he made had consequences #missing someone is wierd in this case where it's like. there was no other option.#i'd already made it clear that his actions made me deeply uncomfy #and if i make an ultimatum there's no way to confirm that 1. he will improve for himself instead of improving just for me #and 2. ultimatums are very harsh and create an unnecessary tension #it holds the status of the relationship over someone's head #when he asked if there was any going back #i just wished i could've elaborated that better. i might say something later if he asks again #also deeply unrelated but i've been having dreams again about my Haunted One inciting incident #(its what im calling the recovered memories of childhood trauma. its funny)#and like OK I GUESS #it just blows #why . why why why why why am i having these dreams that are graphically replaying traumas and expanding upon them to make them Worse #it's probably because the breakup really triggered those memories to come back but still #boy howdy #i was having a great time not thinking about it but then he struggled to give clear consent and boy howdy did that dig it all the way up #its just . like damn . ok i guess

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ponderingmoonlight · 18 days

Text

JJK men pretending to date you to get rid of unwanted attention

Pairings: Geto x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader; Choso x fem!reader; Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count; 3,9k (Gojo's part is loooong)

Warnings: got carried away by Gojo again lol, no real warnings except creepy guys and fluff over fluff, forgive me Noritoshi lovers, I know I did our man dirty in Megumi's part

Geto Suguru

It’s a quiet afternoon in the city. You and Geto have been meeting at this cozy café once a week for months, a little ritual that started after one too many of countless exhausting missions. The place is familiar and comfortable, usually a perfect escape from the noise of jujutsu sorcery. But today, things are a little off.

You notice it immediately when you enter, the way the barista’s eyes follow you. He’s new, someone you’ve never seen here before, and while it’s normal for people to glance over at new faces, this guy’s gaze lingers. It’s unsettling, but you ignore it, not wanting to overthink things. Maybe it’s just the way your hair falls today or the fact that you’re still wearing your uniform since you’ve just returned from another mission.

You sit down across from Geto, who’s already sipping his tea and scrolling through his phone while lounging with his manspread on point.

As you allow yourself a sip of your favorite drink too, you try to relax. This has to be your imagination running wild, you aren’t even that pretty, right?

But every time you look up, the barista is staring at you, his eyes heavy with intent. Eventually, he makes his way over, holding a plate of complimentary cookies. Fuck, what are you supposed to do?

“These are for you,” he purrs, offering you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“On the house.”

You blink, taken aback. The stinging smell of way too much masculine perfume almost makes your guts turn and forces you to hold your breathe. You can tell by one look in his eyes what his intentions are – and they definitely aren’t sincerely.

“Oh, um, thanks,” you murmur, unsure of how to refuse without making things awkward.

The guy lingers, his attention focused solely on you. When he takes another step towards you, the alarm in your head starts going wild. What the hell does this creep want?

“You come here often, don’t you? I’ve noticed you a few times.”

Geto looks up from his phone, his eyes narrowing slightly as he notices the barista’s attention. He says nothing at first, but there’s a subtle tension in the air that wasn’t there before. There’s no doubt in the fact that you’re feeling uncomfortable.

“Yeah, we come here a lot,” Geto interferes smoothly, his tone polite but firm.

“Together.”

The barista’s eyes flick to Geto for the first time, a shadow of irritation crossing his face. He clearly hadn’t noticed him before.

“Oh,” the guy mutters, his smile faltering.

“Are you two…?”

Geto leans forward in his chair, casually placing his warm hand on your thigh while giving you that smile that almost makes you choke. The move is subtle but possessive, his body language making it clear what he’s implying. And your body? Oh, you’re all over the place, your face already hot from the minimal touch of his palm.

“Yeah, we are” he replies simply, giving the barista a look that’s both confident and warning.

The guy frowns, obviously not pleased with the answer, but he doesn’t push it – much to your relief.

“Well, enjoy your cookies,” he gabbles before turning on his heel and heading back behind the counter.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your body finally relaxing as the barista moves away.

“That was weird,” you comment, glancing at Geto with a small, grateful smile.

Geto shrugs, his usual calm smile returning.

“Some people don’t know how to take a hint.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hand still resting against your thigh.

“Thanks for stepping in. I didn’t know how to handle that without being rude.”

“It’s no problem,” Geto replies, his fingers brushing lightly against your covered skin while he leans in slightly.

“Besides, pretending to be your boyfriend has its perks.”

Your cheeks flush even deeper at his words, but you laugh it off, knowing he’s just teasing…

Does he?

There’s something about the way his eyes linger on you for a moment longer than usual, the faint smirk on his lips that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Come on,” Geto finally declares, standing up and offering you his hand.

“Let’s get out of here before that guy decides to bring us another free snack.”

You take his hand with a smile, letting him lead you out of the café, the tension from before completely forgotten.

Are you actually going insane or was there a…spark?

Megumi Fushiguro

It’s a typical day at the jujutsu high training grounds. You and Megumi have been sparring for a while, your breaths coming in short gasps as you try to keep up with him. He’s quick, precise, and annoyingly good at reading your movements, but you’re giving it your all.

During a quick break, you head to the sidelines to grab some water. As you wipe the sweat from your brow, you notice one of the students from Kyoto High approaching. You’ve seen him around before, but you’ve never spoken much beyond the occasional greeting. After all, you’ll wring each other’s next in a few hours, there’s no need for any formalities. Was his name Noritoshi Kamo? Before you’re even able to finish your sentence, he stands right in front of you…

And talks?

“Hey, that was some impressive stuff out there,” he begins, leaning against the fence next to you.

His smile is strangely friendly enough, but there’s a glint in his eye that makes you uneasy.

“Sorry, are you talking to me?” you reply, keeping your tone neutral as you take another sip of water.

The guy doesn’t take the hint.

“You know, if you ever want some private training, I’d be happy to help,” he offers, stepping a little closer.

“I could teach you a few tricks.”

You stiffen slightly, your eyes flicking to where Megumi is standing a few meters away, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes. Before you can respond, the guy takes another step toward you, his hand reaching out as if he’s about to touch your arm.

But before he can, Megumi steps forward, his expression hard.

“She’s not interested,” he says flatly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

The guy blinks, taken aback by the sudden interruption. “Oh, I didn’t realize you two were-”

“We are,” Megumi interrupts firmly, moving to stand between you and the guy.

His presence is protective but not overbearing, a silent wall that the other student quickly decides not to challenge. All you can do is to stare back and forth between the two. That guy, who never said anything to you and now suddenly tries to flirt and Megumi, who stands in front of you like a wall in order to protect you from unwanted attention? You have to be dreaming.

“Right… well, I’ll see you around, I guess,” the guy mutters awkwardly before turning and walking away.

Once he’s gone, you let out a small sigh of relief, glancing up at Megumi with a grateful smile, even though you can’t shake off those violent butterflies roaming around your stomach.

“Thanks for that. He was pretty straight forward and I was too bamboozled to act.”

Megumi shrugs, his usual stoic expression back in place.

“He was bothering you.”

You smile, appreciating the way he always looks out for you, even if he tries to downplay it.

“Still, you didn’t have to step in like that.”

Megumi glances at you, his cheeks flushing just slightly before he looks away.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he mumbles.

“Besides, I didn’t want him to distract you from training.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head at his stubbornness. While this is the first time Megumi stood up for you in this strange way, you can’t help but fall over and over for that boy who hides his feelings like a treasure. Is there a chance that he might like you as well?

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a faint smile on his lips as he turns back to the training ground, ready to spar again. And though he doesn’t say it, you can feel the warmth in his actions - the way he stands a little closer, the way his eyes flick to you more often than usual.

“Maybe”, you mutter to yourself before returning to the training field by his side.

Choso Kamo

You never imagined that a simple grocery store run would turn into a whole situation. You’re wandering down the aisles, trying to decide between two different brands of pasta when you notice a guy lingering nearby. At first, you think nothing of it, people shop all the time, after all.

But then he approaches.

“Hey, need any help with that?” he asks, giving you a smile that’s a little too friendly for comfort.

You offer a polite smile back, shaking your head. Oh, you know men like him good enough, the ones who are only interested to drag you into bed. You’ve seen them countless times before, but in the grocery store? People are really desperate nowadays.

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

He doesn’t leave, though. Instead, he steps closer, his eyes roaming over you in a way that makes your skin crawl.

“You sure? I’ve got some great recipes I could share with you. Maybe over dinner sometime?”

You glance around, feeling trapped in the narrow aisle with no way out and no one nearby. Fuck, this isn’t good. Even if he won’t do anything in the grocery store, you still have to get back home – alone. And with that dark lust glittering in his eyes, he definitely won’t give up.

Just as you’re about to make up an excuse to leave and steady yourself for ramming your knee into his groin, you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“She’s already got dinner plans,” Choso announces, his tone calm but firm as he steps up beside you.

Choso.

Your heart skips a beat when you seem him, his eyes resting comforting on yours. Choso’s here? He didn’t even mention that he’ll go shopping when you last saw him at jujutsu high.

He places a gentle hand on your lower back, guiding you away from the guy with a quiet confidence that leaves no room for argument.

The guy raises an eyebrow, clearly irritated by the interruption.

“Oh yeah? And who are you?”

Choso’s expression doesn’t change, his dark eyes locked on the man with a quiet intensity.

“I’m her boyfriend.”

The guy snorts, clearly not believing it at first, but when he sees the way Choso stands protectively at your side, he seems to reconsider.

“Right… well, my bad,” he mutters before turning and walking away.

You let out a shaky breath, your body relaxing as soon as the guy is out of sight.

“Thank you. I thought this creep will follow me until I’m home” you murmur, looking up at Choso with a relieved smile.

“You could have just killed him.”

“You know I couldn’t do that…”, you reply with a scolding undertone.

These past weeks, you’ve spent a lot time with Choso and taught him simple human interaction. Was this why he stood up for you like that?

Choso glances down at you, his hand still resting lightly on your back.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, more than grateful for his presence. Even though his hand still resting against your back sends shivers down your spine.

In a strangely good way.

“Yeah, I’m fine now. I just… didn’t know how to get rid of him.”

Choso frowns slightly, his gaze softening as he watches you.

“You don’t have to deal with that alone. I’m always here if you need me. From now own, we will go to the grocery store together” he replies quietly.

Your heart swells at his words, and you smile up at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that goes beyond simple gratitude.

“I know. And I’m really lucky to have you.”

Choso’s cheeks flush slightly at your words, but he gives you a small nod, his usual calm demeanor returning.

“Let’s finish shopping,” he says, gently guiding you toward the next aisle.

“I’ll stick close, just in case.”

Gojo Satoru

The bass thumps through your body, the vibrations of the music almost tangible as they pulse through the packed nightclub. Neon lights flash over your head, casting everything in a rainbow of colors, and the crowd moves like a living, breathing body. It's a typical night out with Gojo, who insisted you both hit the club after a long week of missions.

You spot him easily in the chaos, standing at the bar with his signature sunglasses on even in the dim, flashing light. His presence is impossible to miss. After all, Gojo is always the center of attention wherever he goes. His tall frame, casual stance, and self-assured grin naturally draw people in. And tonight is no exception.

You watch from the other side of the club as a woman approaches him, her gaze locked on Gojo like a predator targeting her prey. She’s tall, confident, and clearly intent on making her move. At first, you don’t think much of it - this kind of thing happens all the time when you’re out with him. Gojo is Gojo, after all. But the way she leans into him, brushing her hand against his arm, makes something sharp twist in your gut.

You try to shake it off. You’re not the jealous type, and Gojo has always been playful when it comes to flirting. He simply enjoys the attention, but you know it’s harmless. Still, there’s something about the way this woman is looking at him that makes you feel uneasy.

Even though your not even his fucking girlfriend.

As you make your way through the crowd, heading toward the bar, you see the woman press herself closer to Gojo, her lips moving near his ear as she says something you can’t hear over the pounding music. Gojo’s grin only widens, and he says something back, causing the woman to laugh, her hand lingering on his chest.

Your pace quickens, a mix of frustration and something else bubbling up inside you. You’ve been with Gojo long enough to know how he works, but tonight, for some reason, the sight of him entertaining someone else makes your chest tighten.

Finally, you reach the bar just as the woman leans in even closer, her hand now resting on his shoulder.

“Hey,” you say, louder than necessary to cut through the music.

“I see you’ve made a friend.”

Gojo turns his head at the sound of your voice, his trademark grin plastered on his face.

“Oh, hey, babe!” he calls over the music, completely unfazed.

“I was just chatting with—uh, sorry, what was your name again?”

Wait, did he just call you babe?

The woman looks visibly annoyed as Gojo fumbles for her name, her gaze flicking to you with thinly veiled irritation.

“I was just about to get us drinks,” she purrs, trying to brush off your presence, clearly not deterred by the fact that Gojo is here with you.

You raise an eyebrow at her audacity, but before you can respond, Gojo’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you close to him with a casual but unmistakably possessive gesture. His hand rests securely on your hip, and he leans down so his mouth is close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You feel like fainting. Or maybe dying? Oh, your heart will definitely beat out of your chest if that dream continues.

“She’s not really my type,” he murmurs, his voice low but playful.

“I’m more into, well… you.”

Despite the loud music, the tension in the air shifts instantly. The woman stares at you, clearly catching Gojo’s not-so-subtle dismissal, her expression darkening. And you? If it wasn’t for Gojo’s hand that keeps you in place, you’d land straight on your wobbly knees.

“Really?” she huffs, glaring at you like you’ve somehow intruded on her territory.

“Yeah. Besides, I’m already taken” Gojo replies easily, his grin never wavering.

You feel a small surge of satisfaction at his words even though you know he’s lying to annoy the hell out of her, but the woman isn’t ready to give up just yet. She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You sure you’re not missing out?” she challenges, giving you a once-over that makes your skin crawl.

Gojo’s grip tightens on your waist, and this time, his playful smile fades just a fraction.

“Nope, I’m sure. I don’t think we need any drinks after all. They won’t help with your disgusting attitude anyway” he comments, his tone firmer.

With that, he smoothly turns his back on her, guiding you away from the bar and into the crowd. You glance back just in time to see the woman’s face fall, a mixture of disbelief and irritation crossing her features before she disappears into the crowd of people.

Once you’re safely away from the bar, Gojo turns to you, his grin back in place as if nothing happened.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice light and teasing, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you mutter, feeling your face heat up slightly.

“But you…Did you just call me your girlfriend?”

Gojo’s smile softens, and he reaches up to gently cup your chin, tilting your face up so you’re looking at him.

“What if I did? Would that be okay for you?”

Your heart skips a beat, your body reacting to his words in an instant. Is he making fun of you, testing you? No, you can feel that he means it by the way he holds you by your waist, his fingers resting there like he’s afraid to let go. The world around you feels muffled, the music and the crowd fading into the background. It’s just you and Gojo now, his bright blue eyes shining under the neon lights.

You swallow, trying to find your voice.

“I-I… I don’t know,” you stammer, suddenly feeling like the confident façade you normally carry around him has vanished. The way he’s looking at you so seriously, intently, is doing things to your heart that you can’t quite control.

“I mean, you don’t-”

Gojo interrupts you with a soft laugh, his hand sliding up from your waist to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to answer right now, you know,” he mutters, his voice a little softer than before.

“But I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I guess tonight just gave me the perfect excuse.”

You blink at him, too stunned to speak. Gojo Satoru, who flirts with everyone, who acts like nothing ever truly gets to him, has been thinking about you as more than just a friend? You’ve always had a bit of a thing for him, of course. It’s hard not to when he’s charming, gorgeous, and undeniably protective when it comes to you. But you never thought he felt the same way.

“I thought you were just messing with me,” you admit, your voice a little quieter now, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

He grins, though this time it’s softer, not the usual cocky smirk.

“I mess with everyone. But with you? It’s different. I don’t just want your attention, I want you.”

His words sink in, and suddenly the air between you feels charged. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something huge. You’ve seen Gojo in action. So fearless, confident, always in control, but the way he’s looking at you right now is different. He’s giving you the choice.

A swell of warmth floods through you as you meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the alcohol you drank earlier, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s just so close, but you can’t hold back anymore.

“You’re not playing around, are you?” you ask, searching his face for any sign of his usual teasing.

His smile softens further as he shakes his head.

“Not this time.”

Something inside you snaps, and before you can stop yourself, you close the gap between you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a kiss that’s been building for far too long. Gojo freezes for a moment, clearly surprised, but it only takes a second before he’s kissing you back with an intensity that makes your knees weak. His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you closer, and the world around you disappears completely.

The kiss is electric, everything you imagined it would be and more. You can feel the pent-up tension between you finally break as his lips move against yours, and when he deepens the kiss, your mind goes blank. All you can think about is the way he tastes, the way he feels, and the way your body seems to mold perfectly against his.

When you finally pull back, breathless and a little dizzy, Gojo is grinning down at you like you’ve just handed him the world.

“Well,” he comments, his voice slightly rougher than usual,

“I guess that answers my question.”

You laugh, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

“I guess it does.”

He doesn’t let go of you, his arms still wrapped securely around your waist.

“You know, I don’t usually do this. Y’know, getting serious with anyone” he starts, his tone light but sincere.

“I know,” you reply, your smile softening.

“But I think we’re both a little different when it comes to each other, aren’t we?”

Gojo’s eyes flicker with something deeper as he nods.

“Yeah, we are” he murmurs, brushing his thumb gently along your cheek.

The club around you is still loud and chaotic, but in this moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you. Gojo, for once, isn’t playing his usual games. His smile is genuine, and there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart race.

“So, does this mean I get to call you my girlfriend for real?” he questions, his grin slowly returning.

You laugh, feeling lightheaded and happy as you look up at him.

“Only if I get to call you my boyfriend.”

He raises an eyebrow, that familiar playful smirk creeping back onto his face.

“Oh, I think that can be arranged.”

Before you can say anything else, Gojo leans down and kisses you again, slow and deep, like he’s making sure this is real. And for the first time in a long time, everything feels right.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

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@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr @ryumurin

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bookshelf-dust · 2 months

Text

something’s gotta give

gif by @kwistowee

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 5,988

warnings: swearing, crude jokes, sexual innuendos, general hatred for either party, one small mention of a judgmental christian lady, depictions of an accident involving a box cutter, talk of blood and the ensuing wound, banter, both reader and eddie trying to get under each others skin, enemies to lovers trope

synopsis: eddie munson is a prick. a prick who also happens to be your coworker. you hate his guts. he hates yours. and who would think there’d be reason for anything else?

a/n: well, hello!! i’ve been working on this idea for a little bit, and it was definitely a challenge because i’ve never taken on something with this dynamic before. it was so tricky to come up with all these snarky remarks, to build up a world where it made sense. speaking of, this is without a doubt a 90s!au. i am proud of myself for trying something new and i think it turned out pretty good. shoutout to @clovermunson for listening to me vent about my struggles and helping me mold eddie into the smartass he is. also thank you to @steph-speaks for making me a cutie rb banner!! peep it at the end of the fic. happy reading!!! <333

————

“Here’s your change and…there’s your receipt.”

You bump the cash register drawer with your hip, slamming the thick metal shut. You give a big, warm smile to the woman in front of you. She has a face full of freckles and the most beautiful silver hair that makes her blue eyes look insanely vibrant.

She grins back at you, setting her palm on the countertop, her nails painted a pale, shimmery shade of pink. “Thank you, sweet pea. And thank you for helping me find some goodies!” She shakes her paper bag.

You hand her a complimentary bookmark with the store name on it. “You’re so welcome. You’ll have to stop by and let me know what you think about that one!”

“Of course! You have a good day, now.”

“You too!” You give her a small wave as she walks out the door, and move to put away the store’s copy of her receipt. Your smile drops immediately when you feel a looming presence behind you. The paper in your hand gets crushed when you shove it under the counter.

“Damn, you flick the bean this morning?” Eddie’s voice drips with malice. You know he’s wearing that sinister ass smirk before you even turn to face him.

“Why? Need some advice on how to find it, Munson?” You grab a stack of books off the counter and slide out of the way so he can clock in.

The sound of his boots on the carpeted floors tell you he’s following you. He always is.

“I think it’s a valid question, princess. You’re in such a good mood it makes a guy wonder…”

You stop in the mystery section, looking for authors with the last name beginning with ‘F,’ and begin to restock. “Well, Eddie, if I got off and that’s why I’m so bubbly today, it’s pretty clear to me that somebody gave you blue balls last night.”

He laughs, snatching a book out of your hand to put it on the top shelf when he sees you rise up on your tippy toes. It pisses you off. “Harsh, princess.”

You turn around at the sound of the doorbell, but he stops you with an arm outstretched to rest on the wall.

You grab his hand and shove it out of your way. “I guess you should’ve put that hand to good use then and given yourself a quick, and probably little, job before you came to your real one.”

When you escape his vicinity, you look around for the customer you heard come in. There’s a young boy wandering through the back section where you sell records, tapes, CD’s, whatever the fuck. It’s Eddie’s section, and therefore not your problem.

You hold eye contact with the man in question, giving him your bitchiest look possible. “You have a customer, Munson. And…” you glance at your watch, “I’m going on lunch.”

Eddie watches as you cross your arms and march off to the break room. His gaze falls to your ass. You’re wearing this long skirt, one that falls just above your ankles so your boots poke out. The fabric is loose and flowy, but manages to cling to your skin and he can see every curve when you walk. Every bounce of soft flesh—

“Hey, excuse me?” The voice of a boy, no more than fourteen, snaps Eddie out of his dick-controlled reverie.

He spins around to face the kid, putting on his customer service face. “What can I do for you, little dude?”

In the break room, you stand in front of the microwave, shifting back and forth on your feet while you wait for your leftover pasta to warm up. It’s rare now for your shifts to line up with Robin’s. She is a good coworker, and you’d built up this system, this rhythm, that Eddie has never even tried to build with you.

God, you miss her. And you fucking hate Eddie Munson.

You pull out a chair and sink down into it, too pissed to care that you’re essentially manspreading and certainly eating like a slob.

What angers you the most is that you tried to be friendly with Eddie when he was hired. You have seniority over him, and you were happy to help him figure out how things worked. But he didn’t give a fuck. To you, it seemed like he was too good for your help.

But the first time you saw him ask Robin for help, you realized that he just…didn’t like you. And you don’t know why. You have always been nice to your coworkers. You have no reason not to be. Except when you get to a point that you’re forced to match their energy.

You down the rest of your drink. You need to go out and get some fresh air, despite the fact that it’s fucking scorching outside.

Up front, Eddie gives the young boy his receipt and a little bag full of cassette tapes, buttons, and a patch that he helped him pick out. Another child saved from the masses of pop music, he thinks.

He taps his ringed fingers against the counter, lowering himself so that his elbows rest against the cool vinyl. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie catches a sticky note stuck to the edge of the computer monitor.

The store’s goal total for today is written there, penciled messily in your handwriting. Eddie rolls his eyes. Why do you always have to be on top of everything like that? You’re so fucking uptight all the time Eddie’s surprised you don’t waddle because of the stick you permanently have up your ass.

Ever since the day he got hired a few months ago, Eddie has despised you. He remembers taking a small tour of the shop and being introduced to you where you were organizing a new shipment of magazines.

You stood, shyly fidgeting with the pin on your fitted denim vest. You were bubbly, with these sweet little doe eyes and an expression on your face like you were hoping to make a new friend. He remembers your palm feeling unsettlingly cold when he shook your hand, and now it all makes sense to him.

What with the way you can change moods with the drop of a pin, how you manage to bring a storm cloud with you every time you walk in his direction but have everyone else wrapped around your finger.

A cold-blooded bitch like you must surely feed on the souls of little children every morning.

He hates how organized you are, how prepared. How you behave all patiently when you’re with a customer who’s been a prick, even though he knows it’s all an act because you’ll give him a death glare at any given chance.

But most of all? He hates how fucking gorgeous you are. You’d think all that hatred would make you look like an old hag, but no. Instead you walk around in your skirts that show off that perfect ass and every once in a while you wear a shirt that shows the tiniest sliver of your stomach, or in some cases, your back, if you bend over. He hates when you wear those platform boots with the heels that allow you to level with him.

And the fact that you’re walking toward him right now.

Eddie watches as you strip off the cropped button-up you’d been wearing, exposing your bare arms.

There’s a tattoo running up the length of your bicep that he’s never seen before. His gaze lingers on it for long enough that you catch it and raise a brow.

“You cry when you got that, princess?” He points to the dark ink on your skin.

You slide behind him and sit on the stool in front of the computer.

“No, Eddie. I fell asleep. If you want to bond about how you wailed during each of your tattoo sessions, you’ll have to talk to Brian.”

He scoffs. “Guess you can handle a little prick then, huh?”

“I work with you everyday, don’t I?” You smile, but keep your eyes on the computer screen. There’s supposed to be a new shipment of books coming today, and your boss already asked you to set up the display when it gets here. That reminds you, and you speak before Eddie can give you a smartass remark. “Eddie, there’s a box of new vinyls in the back you’re supposed to sort and put out.”

“Yeah? I’ll get right on that, mom.”

You pinch your thumb and forefinger together so that you don’t snap. It’s such a shame that such a pretty man is such a fucking asshole.

The mouse starts to feel slick from your clammy hands as you click around, trying your best to track the package. Slam!

Eddie drops the box of records on the far end of the front desk, making you jump. He grabs a box cutter and pulls open the mess of cardboard and packing tape as aggressively as possible.

Your head snaps in his direction. “Can’t you do that anywhere else, Munson?”

“Nah, babe. My only entertainment for the day is pissin’ you off, and I just clocked in.”

You facepalm. “Jesus fucking Christ, I miss Robin.”

Eddie cups his hand around the shell of his ear. “What’s that, princess? You need Buckley, huh? Bet she puts up with your shit.”

You stand up. “More like she puts up with me talking about the shit you put me through, because you masquerade as a sweet little angel when you work with her.” You’ve moved toward the other end of the counter before you can even realize, leveling with Eddie and getting in his face.

He places both of his hands on the table, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Maybe it’s because Robin isn’t a fucking priss, and actually has a personality.”

That hits a nerve, and Eddie catches the way your brows twitch. But your poker face doesn’t slip, not for a second. Your eyes flick to the front door.

“You have a customer, Munson. I’ll go take care of the records. Oh, and they’re a chick. Maybe you can go see if she has a personality that’s up to your standards and get your dick wet so that there’s a slight chance you become less of a raging asshole.”

Eddie looks over his shoulder at the young woman who’s just walked through the door. She has long, dark hair and more piercings than he can count. She’s his type, and he hates that you clocked that. When he turns back to you, you’re already taking the box off the counter.

“Oh, and Eddie? Fuck you.”

You get the vinyls sorted and put away in record time.

————

If it’s possible, the next day is hotter than the last. You’re sweating the second you walk out of your front door, your hairline quickly dampening and your thighs sticking together on the drive to work.

You put on the one short dress you own today, grateful for the fact that your place of occupation doesn’t have a strict dress code. It’s too hot to wear anything, but the thin, mesh-like fabric and little spaghetti straps will do just fine.

Luckily for you, Eddie’s shift doesn’t start until one, so you’ll be able to have a chill morning where you won’t feel like blowing your own brains out. Knock on wood, but you even feel a little giddy because Robin opened, which means she’ll be there to welcome you and greet you with a bit of peace.

You pull open the front door, and pick up speed, knowing the cool air is just within your reach. The sounds of heavy metal reach your ears before you see him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You consider yourself lucky that the floor is empty, because you did not consult your conscience for one second before expressing your pure annoyance that Eddie is here before he was meant to be.

You push up your sunglasses so they’re level with your eyebrows, and take a look at the figure standing behind the counter. There is no Robin anywhere in sight. “Where is Robin? Why the fuck are you here?” You catch Eddie’s gaze drag up and down your bare legs and that good mood flies right outside the front door.

“Why are you dressed like that?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “What’s the matter, Eddie baby? You not see a lot of shoulders in that fuck ass club of yours?”

You pull your sunglasses back down over your eyes and grin, because you’ve just seen Eddie Munson blush. That one really hit the mark, and you are immensely pleased with yourself.

Even more so when you realize he’s following you. You start switching your hips, knowing where his gaze is. You’re not as stupid as he thinks.

His wallet chain is jingling, his hair flying behind him as he jogs to meet you in the middle of the store. If a customer were to walk in right now, they’d see the both of you standing nose to nose, a murderous look in your eyes, and probably feel like they’d just walked in on a taping for a soap opera.

“What do you know about my fuck ass—” He coughs, practically chokes. “W-what do you know about Hellfire?” Eddie asks. You can almost see his blood boiling.

You put your hand on his chest. “I’m a rogue, bitch.”

The sound of your laugh reaches Eddie’s ears before he’s even registered your hand on him, your breath on his neck, and that you’ve turned around and disappeared. There’s no way you’re not a witch. Are you a witch? What does a hex feel like?

Eddie starts walking to the stacks, suddenly encouraged to see if you carry any witchcraft-related texts. The doorbell chimes and he’s forced to spin around.

The group of people that have just pushed through the doors is huge. At least six teenagers of varying heights, followed by four or five college-aged kids. And they all look like they’re on a mission. Two of them head straight for the records, one for the magazines, and he loses sight of the rest down the romance aisle.

In the back, you lock up your bag and shake out your shoulders.

Your fingers fly over the radio, quickly changing the station Eddie had chosen to one you know plays much better music. You turn the dial down a little too, having already started to feel blood leaking out of your ears.

At the counter, Eddie watches in horror as the teenagers grab armfuls of records and CDs. What’s worse is that a family of four walk in next. An older woman walks straight up to him. “Excuse me, sir?” Sir? What is he, a fucking mummy? “Where are your bibles and Christian novels?” He catches her eyeing the ink littering his pale arms.

“I can show you to them, ma’am. If you wanna come with me, we’ve got a whole section just for that!” Your bubbly voice meets Eddie’s ears. And so do the sounds of “There She Goes” by The La’s.

The woman turns on you, her smile brightening, and she’s quick to follow your purposeful step. Over your shoulder, you wink at Eddie.

He knows it’s evil. He knows he fucking hates your guts. He hates that you’ve just charmed that red flag of a woman. But he’ll be damned if he fails to admit that his zipper didn’t feel just a little tighter at that faux flirtation in your expression.

“Let me know if you need help finding anything, alright? And if we don’t have anything in stock, we can always order it for you!”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and you’re practically stomping on your way back to the counter. You use the walk to actually take in Eddie for the first time since you came in.

He’s wearing a t-shirt that he obviously cut the sleeves off of at home, purely based on the way they’re fraying. His arms are…beefy, to say the least. His skin looks unnaturally soft, and his biceps are just so big and they look like they’re begging to be squeezed or bitten, even.

Your eyes wander lower when he’s called over to help a child cart probably ten CDs to the counter. His jeans aren’t tight, not exactly. But they fit. He’s got more ass than most people would know what to do with. You can’t help but wonder what it looks like outside of that ratty denim. Or what else he might use that bandana for.

You park yourself in front of the register, getting the system set up before the rush you can feel coming on. The cracks in the leather seat below you pinch your thighs, but you can’t be bothered to care. You deserve it for thinking of such a dickhead that way. Why are the gorgeous ones always assholes?

A quick glance over your shoulder tells you that Eddie’s not helping kids anymore, but shamelessly flirting with a girl who can’t be more than twenty-one. She looks slightly intimidated by him, until he flashes his ring-covered fingers in front of her. You recognize that look, the one that tells you she might just eat him alive.

You fear she’ll be immensely disappointed when she truly gets to meet his personality.

In the time he’s been trying to woo this young lady, a line has formed, and now you’re stuck cashing people out. The Christian lady is first.

“You find everything you needed today?”

She drops some change into the tip jar and takes a mint from the tray you just restocked. “Yes, I did, sweetheart, thank you for asking. You see that? Yes, that one—isn’t it gorgeous?”

She forces you to look at the fancy bible she’s picked out, and you do so despite the voice inside your head screaming for her to fucking pay already and get out because she’s been here long enough and the line is only getting longer.

“It sure is!” You do your best to smile kindly. You hand her the receipt and a small card that not only thanks her for her purchase, but promises a ten percent discount if she comes back within the next month.

The next customer is easy, a ten year old with a storybook that has colorable pages and a bookmark with rainbow tassels. You hand him a sticker and tell him you like his Gizmo shirt, and he beams his way out the door.

When you are confronted with a set of parents who clearly have more kids than they seem to want, you feel a warm breath on the back of your neck. “You have a happy pill on you I can have?”

Eddie takes the stack of books out of your hands and places each one in a paper bag. The customers aren’t even looking at you, what with the husband fussing about inflation and How much for a paperback? and the toddler trying to eat the rug.

“No, sweetie,” you start, sliding the bag across the counter, hoping maybe the woman will notice and take her gaze off the street just outside the window. She takes it without looking at you, without a word, and the husband walks away mulling over the receipt, not bothering to do a headcount of kids. “I can’t keep up with your stash of boner pills.”

Eddie laughs. He tosses his head back, bearing his thick neck to you. It’s a slow sound. You can’t help but feel like it’s not something you should hear. It feels like the kind of laugh someone saves for a lover in privacy. And it’s so gravelly and deep.

The line has slowed, and all that’s left for you to do is keep an eye out for the customers slowly making their way up front.

You tilt your head a little in Eddie’s direction, signaling that you’re speaking to him. “You probably do need them though, based on the way you were eye-fucking that girl earlier. God knows you’re gonna need a little…happy to keep up with her.”

Eddie bends a little at the knees, getting his head completely level with yours, his brown eyes twinkling with malice. “You think about my dick a lot, princess?”

You place your hand on the counter, less than an inch between yours and Eddie’s fingers. One move and they’d be touching. Hell, one step forward and your front would be pressed to his. “More like I worry about it,” you say.

He quirks a brow, his lips ticking up at the corners. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Since I see you try and pick up a girl in the store at least three times a week and you know what? They never stick. So either it’s that you can’t get it up, or it’s that if you treated any woman as well as you treat that guitar of yours, maybe they’d be satisfied.”

Eddie takes a step forward. You’ve never been this close to him. “You know, Princess, they might not last, but based on your fucking attitude, it seems like you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?”

He pushes a strand of hair out of your face. Your blood pressure spikes. It feels like your veins are turning colors with how angry you are. Eddie has the nerve to laugh.

“Yeah. I think all this bitchiness comes from the fact that no one will put their dick anywhere near you. They’re probably afraid you’ll make it shrivel up and die.” You don’t say anything, and he just keeps going. “Hell, I’m nice enough that I’d fuck you if that meant you’d get off my back.”

Your entire body goes rigid. And in that moment, you know that’s exactly what he wanted from you. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“Thanks for the offer, Munson. But I’d rather gouge my own fucking eyes out than let you touch me. If you wanna see me as a priss, that’s fine. But at least I’m not an insufferable prick who can’t give a damn about anyone who’s not shoved so far up my own ass and ready to fall at my feet at any given moment. Some people have to grow the fuck up.” You practically spit out the last few words, your voice laced with venom.

Eddie blinks. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glazed over. For the first time since he met you, he doesn’t have shit to say.

————

You and Eddie are the only ones on schedule today.

You haven’t spoken in days, just moving around one another and doing your jobs in silence. You can’t lie about the pride you feel in your chest from having finally gotten to him. Even if the dead quiet is unsettling, you feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

You think Eddie might’ve even mastered the art of a fake, but amiable personality.

You’re currently hiding away in the back room, unpacking new shipments of books, vinyls, display materials, along with all the shit you actually need like paper for the register and cleaning supplies.

Not that it matters where you are because you’ve had a total of one customer today. But that’s how Wednesday’s go.

It’s sort of mindless, this activity. You slide the box cutter over the packing tape, rip open each box, take everything out, stomp the box flat, repeat. It’s not very stimulating, but you don’t hate it.

The last box though is covered in enough clear tape to catch every fly in the world, and it’s taking some serious sawing to get through. You set your hand on the worn and slightly damp cardboard, bracing yourself to get one end of it loose.

You’re just getting there when the blade finds a raindrop on the silky tape and slips free. You’re not expecting that, of course, and the blade slices the skin of your forearm quickly and thoroughly.

You yelp, dropping the box cutter. You’re never one to wail or scream, but you let out a whimper at the shock of pain. Your non-dominant hand starts to shake as you take in the wound.

You’re too panicked to realize that your frightened exclamation could be heard up front, considering there’s no music playing and you left the receiving room’s door open.

It doesn’t look deep enough to need stitches, but it’s bleeding. Quite a bit, actually.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

There are thudding footsteps, and then Eddie appears in the doorway. “Fuck fuck fuck, what? Bein’ so damn loud.” He pauses, taking in the sight before him.

Your eyes are glazed over, your hands shaking, and you’re cupping your forearm so as to not let blood drip all over the floors.

“Oh fuck off, I do not need this right now!” you exclaim, knowing he’s going to berate you or say something demeaning and you are not going to cry in front of him.

Eddie says your name.

He never says your name. It makes you look up at him, and you almost feel nauseous at the sincere look on his face.

“Do you need me to drive you somewhere?”

You roll your eyes. “No, Eddie. I’m not fucking helpless! And I’m not bleeding out either!”

He steps towards you, his hands outstretched like he’s a ringmaster, like he’s trying to tame an apex predator. “But you are bleeding.”

“No fuckin’ shit, Sherlock—”

“Let me help you—”

You decide to shove past him, whimpering your way towards the bathroom. Eddie is on your heels. You try to shut the door in his face, but he plants his boot firmly on the floor and prevents you from it. His glare is unwavering.

He repeats your name once more. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Just—just fucking stop for a minute, okay? Let me help you. Let me do this one thing without any of this shit, you hear me?”

You blink. Eddie kicks the door stopper down so it stays open. His eyes flick to the toilet seat. “Sit.”

You’re too winded to say no. So you sit down, cradling your arm, while Eddie rummages around for gauze and wipes and whatever the fuck he can find because he’s not a nurse but he has had to clean himself up on more than one occasion.

You can’t process that Eddie is treating you this way. Like a human. That he’s insisting on helping you when he doesn’t get anything out of it.

When he returns, he settles on his knees in front of you, looking into your eyes to make sure it’s okay for him to touch you. You hate the way your stomach flips. But the little shift in your arm tells him it’s alright.

Eddie’s fingers are cold on yours as he turns your forearm outward so he can look at the wound. You can’t help but watch as he works on you. Takes care of you.

He sets a paper towel underneath your arm, using another to press down on your skin and make sure the bleeding has stopped. The pressure hurts, but you don’t say a word.

Eddie hooks his foot around the corner of the trash can, pulling it closer. He throws out the bloody towel and wets another, being as gentle as he can in an effort to clean all of the dried red splotches from your skin.

The cut isn’t deep, but it definitely nicked a few capillaries along the way. It is a little longer though, and Eddie has to use two big pieces of gauze to cover it. This is after he’d swiped your arm with alcohol wipes, grinning to himself because of how hard you were trying not to show him any weakness.

Eddie’s thumb lingers on your skin long after he’s taped you up. You’re both silent, sitting in your shitty workplace bathroom. You can feel that he wants to say something, but you don’t know what. It’s why you haven’t gotten up yet.

You notice his eyes on your face before you meet his gaze. “Will you look at me?” he says. Your heart jolts in your chest.

“What for?”

“So that I can tell you why I’ve been a giant dick since I met you and you’ll see I’m being real with you.”

Your head shoots up, mainly because you can’t really believe he’s just said those words. “Hold on,” you laugh, “You’re going to explain yourself now? After I spent all that time trying to be your friend and you—”

“Treated you like shit, yeah I know.” Eddie drags his hands down his face. You’re not sure why, but you feel compelled to listen to him. “I showed up and you were there in your cute fucking skirts and you were so nice to everyone and just so…good? I couldn’t stand it.”

You blink.

“I’m not like that. I’m not good with people and empathetic like you are and it takes me a long fucking time to do anything right. And I chose to take that out on you, to hate you, because you were so perfect, and that was easier than falling for you.”

Your mouth drops open. He what? Eddie waves his hands in your direction.

“Close your mouth, you’re gonna catch flies. I hated that I could’ve dropped to my knees for you the second I met you. You looked at me like I was precious, like you were happy to meet someone new, and I’m such a fuck up, such a nuisance to so many people, that there was no way I was going to let a pretty girl like you befriend me and have me ruin it all. Because the truth is, I’d kill to be as fucking good as you are.”

You start shaking your head. You feel your eyes glaze over, so you look down at your freshly bandaged arm.

“And I realize that the only reason you’re a dick to me is because I started that shit.”

You let out the barest hint of a laugh. “It’s called matching your energy. There wasn’t any point in trying to befriend you when you…hated me.”

Eddie says your name again. “I don’t hate you. I do hate myself though, and that I was so—”

“Jealous?” you interrupt, finishing for him.

He tugs on the hair at the base of his neck. God, this is the most ridiculous fucking thing.

“Yeah. Jealous that I don’t have as much good in me as you do. I’d see you working, see you happy to help anyone, see you pull more weight than anyone else here. I hated that you’re everything I’m not.”

When you finally look back up at him, you’ve gone all teary, and something inside Eddie breaks. It snaps.

“We’re not supposed to be the same. If we were, nothing would ever work. You act like you’re just—just this helpless piece of shit, Eddie. You aren’t. But I can’t make you realize that. All I can do is tell you that if you want to be more charismatic—or whatever the fuck—you gotta work at it.”

He’s looking at you with his stupid ass doe eyes, and you think you finally understand him.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re everything I am, Munson. No one else is livin’ your life for you.” You start to trail off, but not quite yet. “I wish you hadn’t been so fucking sincere so I could yell at you.”

Eddie tosses his head back, bearing his neck to you, and laughs. He raises his hands, beckoning you. “C’mon. Let me have it. You deserve it for how many times I’ve called you a priss.”

You shake out your shoulders, and if you weren’t still drained from the box cutter incident you’d jump up and hop back and forth like you’re readying to get in the ring.

“I get it, you know? But I also don’t think it’s fair, because, and I’m gonna be honest here, the day you got hired I thought you were so gorgeous. Trust me, I was fully weak in the knees. You were also dressed like, well, you, and I wanted to at least make friends with you because you seemed, to use your words, good.”

“I heard you crack a few jokes, saw you picking up on how things worked, and then with me it was like you had this alter ego. I just don’t think it was fair that I got the short end of the stick here, even if I did enjoy being a smartass to you. So I guess what I’m really saying is, why me? Why weren’t you a dick to Robin, or Brian or fuckin’ Keith? Why not take out your jealousy on someone else?”

Eddie stands up, shoves his hands in his back pockets. “You can hit me if you feel like it, because I know this is going to sound fucked.” He pauses, and then all the words spill out at once, leaving you completely breathless when he’s finished.

“Not only was I jealous of how perfect your soul is, but you being so sweet made me want you. I wanted you all to myself. I wanted that personality, those kind remarks, that look you get in your eye when you’re listening so well, I wanted it all around me, all the time. It felt like you were this fucking angel, I wanted to lose myself in you.”

“But it didn’t feel like I’d be worthy of you either. I figured you’d get sick of me, real quick, when you realized I wasn’t as good of a person as you. When you figured out all the shit I need to work through. It seemed easier to hate you than to have you see me the way everyone else does. Nobody wants a work in progress.”

You laugh. You take in your surroundings, still in the work bathroom, and you laugh. Eddie’s brows shoot up, and his heart drops out of his ass and onto the tile floors below him.

“Eddie, everyone is a work in progress. And I am an extremely patient person.”

He recovers himself fast enough to make one more smartass remark. “You’re sure you don’t wanna kick me in the balls or somethin’?”

You take a step towards him, breathing deeply. Breathing him in.

“Not right now, Eddie. What’s frustrating though, is how much I want to kiss your dumb ass. Your annoying, over-complicating, completely ridiculous, stupid hot fucking ass.”

Eddie blinks. You might as well have kicked him in the balls because he can’t even think a single coherent thought now. Not with the way you’re pushing up onto your toes and pulling him down towards you, shaking your head so he doesn’t make up something stupid about not deserving it.

And then your mouth is on his. Your lips are so warm, and everything else disappears. All Eddie can feel is you. Your perfume engulfs him, the heat of your chest pressed against him, the soft fat of your hip under his hand. When you pull on his hair he almost whimpers.

You kiss hard, harder than he’d have thought, but it’s so gentle at the same time. You’re kissing him stupid. There’s no other way to put it. The only thing that pops in his head is that his suspicions about you being a witch were totally fucking spot on.

When you finally pull away, your lips have gone all puffy, and there’s this dazed but incredibly satisfied look in your eye. He’d take you home right now and get on his knees for you if you’d let him.

Your lips tick up at the corners, and he has to shake his head so he can really hear what you’re about to say.

“Aren’t we on the clock, Eddie?”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

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calcifiedunderland · 5 months

Text

Part I (here), Part II, Part III (COMPLETED)

Trey Clover vs. Azul Ashengrotto vs. Jamil Viper x GN! Reader

In which the way to the Prefect’s heart is through their stomach! At least, according to three of NRC’s students…

I got the idea from @recreyomakesdoodles , from this post! Thank you so much, hope you liked it!!💕

Tagging people I think would be interested: @aruis4nosleep , @tinseltina

Warnings: food/eating

Notes: I decided to split this into multiple parts because I never have any restraint while writing and this ended up being long. Enjoy :D

———————————————————♣️🐙🐍

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Azul pushed his glasses up, balancing a stack of takeout boxes emblazoned with the Mostro Lounge logo on them. Cold blue eyes met Trey’s golden irises. Trey cleared his throat, shifting a heavy picnic basket from one hand to the other. “What brings you here, Azul? I thought you’d be busy at Mostro Lounge…”

Azul snorted, “the Prefect knows to expect me today. Clearly, you are the one intruding.” Earlier that week, he overheard you wailing to your friends about your upcoming History of Magic exam. Apparently, this unit was on Atlantica’s magical history - a topic that was, unfortunately, giving you trouble.

Fortunately, Azul was a mer who grew up learning the history by heart. Naturally he offered you assistance in exchange for having you taste-test some dishes. And how could he not help a poor, unfortunate fellow student like yourself?

Besides, if he wanted to bring along some personally cooked meals to Ramshackle, under the claim that you both would be there ‘for hours, so you may as well try some foods (that I made!) for the upcoming Lounge menu (that I run)!’, that was nobody’s business. And certainly not Clover’s business.

Trey crossed his arms, easily holding the heavy picnic basket like it weighed nothing. Azul could smell the buttery pastries and powdered sugar through the closed basket lid where he stood. “Riddle sent me to give the Prefect an invitation to the next Unbirthday Party. I thought I’d give them some treats to… sweeten the deal.” Though Trey had a disarmingly pleasant smile with the pun, his eyes bored into Azul’s.

Azul frowned. “That couldn’t have been more than a simple text. Aren’t they friends with your first years, as well?” He asked, remembering your first year friends that he’d turned into anemones.

Trey adjusted his glasses and averted his gaze, a telltale deflection sign that Azul didn’t miss. “Well, it’s more official coming from the Vice Housewarden.” “And I suppose the baked goods are complimentary?” Azul sniffed disdainfully at the basket, “Surely, the prefect needs more than pastries. A proper meal,” he emphasized.

Trey’s eyes narrowed, “a basket of baked goods is better than whatever deal you’d have for them,” he nodded to the boxes Azul carried. “Everyone loves a good old fashioned pastry. Can’t say the same for seafood.” Azul opened his mouth to retort, when suddenly both of their ringtones went off.

IM SO SORRY AZUL!!!!! I got caught up with something, can I come over tomorrow?? I likely won’t be done until later, the headmage has me doing stuff 😭

TREY!!! Tysm for the invite, you didn’t have to go out of ur way to give it in person!! ill definitely be there at the party! 😄 sry I’m not there atm, Crowley wanted me to do something for him

Trey frowned, reading your text. Azul huffed, shouldering the stack of food boxes, muttering “looks like today was a loss.” Trey sighed, “well, it can’t be helped…” he made a mental note to put the pastries in the Heartslabyul fridge and just deliver it to you tomorrow, under the guise of ‘checking up on you’ after working for Crowley. The two of them trudged down the path to the Hall of Mirrors, heading back to their dorms.

The two of them walked in silence until Trey abruptly said, “I don’t know what you want with the Prefect, but I hope you have their best intentions at heart.” Azul turned to give Trey a withering look, “I assure you, when it comes to the Prefect, I have nothing but good intentions.” As he stepped into Octavinelle, Azul smirked and muttered, “especially regarding their heart.” Trey lingered for a bit, staring at the Octavinelle mirror with an unreadable expression. “We’ll see about that,” he said aloud in the empty Hall, then headed back to Heartslabyul.

—•—♣️🐙🐍—•—

Meanwhile, you sighed heavily, collapsing onto the chair. The cafeteria was pretty much empty, save for the random student or two. It was already darkening outside, and you were hungry. Crowley wanted you to do something for him just before lunch, and soon half your Saturday was gone running around NRC. You’d even lost track of time, and missed Azul’s study session and Trey dropping in! You groaned, hearing your stomach growl loudly.

“Prefect? What are you doing here?”

You glanced up, seeing Jamil with a large container of tupperware and other small containers. The delicious scent of curries, labneh yogurt cheese, and freshly made pita made your mouth water. Despite yourself, Jamil caught you looking at the boxed-up food more than once.

“…Crowley had me running errands, and I may have skipped lunch…” your voice grew quiet near the end. Jamil raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “I actually ended up making too much food for Kalim,” he said, moving around the table to sit next to you. “There’s enough for an extra person, and I’ve have already eaten.”

Your eyes widened, and Jamil started dishing out some curry and flatbread for you. Bright-colored curry sauce and chickpeas flooded the platter, wafting a delicious scent. As Jamil ripped a piece of pita, your stomach growl loudly. Your face felt warm. Jamil only chuckled, pushing the plate he’d conjured towards you. “What about Kalim?” You asked, feeling bad. Jamil smiled, “Please, go ahead. There’s enough for Kalim and you.” A warm smile grew on your face, and you gave Jamil a one-sided hug before digging in. “Thank you! You’re my savior!”

As he watched you eat, a tender look grew on Jamil’s face. He shifted the food containers so he could watch you while nibbling on some flatbread. It wasn’t difficult to determine that you were off on Crowley’s whims again - with you running around the school and being gone for several hours. With that in mind, it wouldn’t be anyone’s fault if he accidentally made too much food, so he thought he’d drop it off at Ramshackle later. It was sheer luck that you’d dropped by the cafeteria!

You hummed, soaking up some of the leftover curry sauce with your flatbread, “this was delicious, Jamil. Thank you so much.”

Jamil smiled genuinely, but a devious look came into his eyes when you looked back at your plate. “Please, Prefect, allow me. Wait here.” He took the plate, going to the kitchens to box up some food for you to take back. Walking back to you, he handed you the container, “It’s getting late, I can walk you back to Ramshackle.”

The two of you set off, with you holding some of Jamil’s boxes. “This was… really sweet of you, Jamil,” you smiled. You knew Jamil always had his hands full, whether it was taking care of Kalim or managing literally everything else. Maybe the food was making you gush, but you were definitely grateful for the impromptu meal. As you opened the door to Ramshackle, you gingerly handed the boxes back to him.

“Ah, wait,” he shuffled them and held a large one out to you. “This one is yours.” Your eyes widened, “Jamil, this is a lot-“ “Please.” Your eyes met his dark grey irises, and warm gratitude filled your chest. “Jamil, I… I really don’t know what to say. I have to repay you somehow-“ Now that was what he wanted to hear.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to try making some new dishes,” he glanced at you. “I’ve been needing someone to taste test them, and Kalim won’t be available…” You nodded eagerly, “Of course! I’d love to help you!” You said your goodbyes, and as the door shut behind you, Jamil had a calculating smirk on his face. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together.

————————————————————♣️🐙🐍

Thanks for being patient everyone!! Hope you enjoyed this part, reblogs and comments are forever appreciated 💕

lmk if anyone wants to be added to the taglist! Take care shrimpies~ 😘

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